Little Beginnings

Human for a reason,

I say, looking

at a clock. My ancestors

excuse me, though I

make no excuses

For them. Far enough back

and the stains come out,

I assume, and the wheel

restarts. It’s strange when

what is round still ends,

but I accept it and accept it

now again. I look up, look

down, look in my hand,

two minutes feels like

ten feels like nothing

feels like I have been

a fool for believing

in the stars this life

lived on a sphere inspires…